


the wonder of you

by codesandhearts



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Fake Dating, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3081554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codesandhearts/pseuds/codesandhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Monty invites his roommate Miller to a weekend with his friends...as his boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the wonder of you

**Author's Note:**

> bcos every ship needs a fake dating trope. 
> 
> hashtag mintylives

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“But-”

“You owe me. Last year, _Thanksgiving._ Need I say more?”

“Fine. Fine, I’ll go.”

“Good. Because I’ve already packed for you.”

“You were that sure I’d cave?”

“We’ve been living together for two years now, I like to think I know you pretty well.”

So it starts: quite possibly the most stressful weekend of Monty Green’s life. This is, of course, counting that stupid time in college where he and Jasper decided to pull elaborate, and some might say terrifyingly overachieving, pranks. It’s not like he’s not looking forward to seeing his old friends for the entire weekend but, really, rounding that many young adults in the countryside can only mean trouble and, since Monty has sworn off any type of completely reckless activity as his new year’s resolution for this year, he is officially the designated driver for all his friends.

And, here’s the thing, he used to be the guy who always got drunk off his ass at every party and would be probably selling pot in the corner but things have changed. Monty Green is a Responsible Adult, or at least he’s trying to be. It’s not that much of a transition, to be honest. He never really rebelled other than getting high and drunk like a loon –he’s still a homebody, would much rather play around with electronics than go on dates, shy and awkward to a fault. His friends already know this of him, even though he hasn’t seen them in close to six months. Sure, they have their social media networks but Monty’s been so busy with his internship that the only person he has any time for lately is Miller.

Miller, his roommate, follows him around without objection. They met halfway through sophomore year in college, when Miller was trying to steal Monty’s laptop bag. Monty then recognized him from his Poli Sci class and offered him a place to stay so he wouldn’t have to resort to thievery. One week turned into a month, then two years, and, now Monty is only one in Miller’s life who can call him Nathan. On occasion, that is, because Miller’s affection can only run so deep.

“You’re not usually the kind of guy to hold a favour over someone’s head,” Miller says, getting into the car.

“I’m a man of many mysteries,” Monty says.

“Says the guy who still sleeps with a night light.”

“Shut up.” The night-light is shaped like a dolphin. “But I kid you not, if I don’t come to this without a date, they will try to find me one and that is going to be a trainwreck. One time, they set me up with a guy who listed his life’s accomplishment as being able to discern any type of wine by smell.”

“Ew, a winey.”

“Exactly. They mean well but, trust me, you being my fake boyfriend is better than any option right now.”

“I have to say, I’m tremendously flattered.”

“You shouldn’t be. If I could make them believe that I was dating the creepy guy from downstairs who always smells faintly of marijuana, then I would. You’re the best I can do on short notice.”

Miller laughs, turns on the radio and hums to the latest Taylor Swift. It takes a few hours to get from their apartment in the city to the lake house (or the ‘Blake Lake House’ because Octavia and Bellamy are nerds) and Monty and Miller take turns driving.

All through the first few years of college, Monty always felt like he had a place in his found family made of old and new friends and they’d been his home for so long. It just felt weird and misplaced that Miller never felt the same way. Monty would always invite him to gang shindigs and Miller always found an excuse to say no. It wasn’t like Miller was a complete loner, he had his friends (who all seemed to wear black 24/7), but it was disconnected to be separate for how well they got along.

“So, fill me in on what’s happening,” Miller says, as they get out of the car. When Monty grabs for his luggage, Miller pushes his hand away and offers to carry it as well.

“Octavia and Lincoln are getting married, as you know, and this is kind of their stag night, except it’s a weekend.”

“Aren’t stag nights customarily spent separate from your partner?”

“Yeah, but they’re disgustingly in love. Like, it can be nauseating. Consider this your warning,” Monty says. “As your fake boyfriend, I will assist in your vomiting, if need be.”

“That’s so sweet of you, darling,” Miller says in a sour voice.

They walk up to the lake house, where the lights are already lit inside and Monty can hear the faint sound of laughter and music. To their right is a pier, leading up to a small gazebo that overlooks the vast lake. The candles light the area at night, little stairs illuminating the way. In the distance, the smell of pine and roses.

“It’s nice here,” Monty says.

“Yeah,” Miller says wistfully. He catches Monty’s eye and smiles, slow, the way Miller does, like he’s never sure of his own happiness.

Monty looks away quickly. “So, should we go over the story?”

“We’ve been together for six months and you didn’t tell them because you wanted to make sure it would take but we’re both very happy,” Miller recites flawlessly. “What if they ask whether or not we’ve boned?”

Monty nervously twiddles his thumbs. He’s known Miller for so long but it’s still so easy to keep parts of himself secret. “Say we’re taking it slow.”

“Got it. Nicknames?”

“I call you Nate and you call me nothing because I hate nicknames and will rig your lights back home so it’ll be a rave in your room every time you wake up if you try.”

Miller plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek and wraps an arm around him. “How’d I end up with such a charmer?”

“The universe owed you a favour since it gave you that ugly mug.”

Monty knocks on the door and is immediately attacked with a Jasper-shaped figure giving him a full-body hug.

“Missed you, too, bud,” Monty says, wrapping both arms around his best friend. They’ve lived in each other’s pockets since they were kids and hugging Jasper like this always feels like coming home, even if Jasper always manages to smell like the bottom of a McDonald’s takeaway bag.

Jasper pulls away and ruffles Monty’s hair like they’re still eight. “Come in, everyone’s here,” he says then turns his attention to Miller, who’s hiding behind Monty, which is crazy because Miller is way taller. “Hey, Miller. I heard you laid a flag down on this sweet continent.”

Miller chokes on air. “That is…”

“A line from New Girl,” Monty supplies. Jasper walks towards the kitchen, laughing. He links his hands with Miller’s, Miller cold against him. “You nervous?”

“I dunno, kind of? Like I know these people but I wanna be a good fake boyfriend and make a good impression. I know how much they mean to you,” Miller says.

Monty squeezes Miller’s hand. “You’re doing great so far.” He ignores the stirring in his gut when Miller smiles at him.

They make their way to the balcony, where everyone is and singing off-key to Fall Out Boy. Well, all except Wells, who has a voice angels envy.

“Guys,” Monty says.

“Monty!” Raven yells and runs towards him for a hug. Raven’s not usually touchy-feely but she does share her toolbox with Monty which is a big deal.

“I’m sure you’ve all met Miller, my…boyfriend. And Miller, I’m sure you know everyone,” Monty says.

Around the balcony is the same culprits: Bellamy, rakishly good-looking with arms around Clarke and Wells respectively, who are bickering over what kind of muffins to bake for tonight; Octavia and Lincoln, wrapped around each other like there’s no end or beginning to each other; Jasper, without Maya tonight, who’s trying to catch popcorn in his mouth.

“We should get inside,” Bellamy says. “It’s getting cold and we all know how Wells gets in adverse temperatures.”

“Oh _my god_ , that was one camping trip,” Wells grumbles.

Bellamy smirks, the mischief reaching his eyes, before he leans in to give Wells a quick kiss. Bellamy pulls him in and, as most things go, everyone starts following Bellamy. Monty’s always wondered how Bellamy, the king of campus, who attracts pretty much everyone, chose him, Monty Green the weird kid at the back of the class thinking about rerouting the wires in his house to make all the switches glow-in-the-dark, to be part of his pack. But he’s grateful he is. He wouldn’t know where he’d be without Bellamy.

The rest of the night, as far nights with this gang go, is fairly underwhelming. Jasper and Raven, predictably, somehow make the microwave blow up and are consequently evicted from the kitchen by Wells; they all gather in the living room to hear how Lincoln proposed to Octavia and there are ‘aww’s and fake vomiting sounds heard around them. To play up their ruse, Miller squishes next to Monty on the couch and presses up against him. Arm around his shoulder, leaning in to whisper jokes in his ear –it feels too real.

And, the thing is, Miller looks so comfortable with it. he’s so at ease with touching Monty and being in his presence, with calling him ‘babe’ and putting up with Monty’s sulking face immediately afterwards, with getting along with his friends and trying to make a place for himself in this lake house. It’s all Monty can do to restrain himself from shaking his roommate by the shoulders and screaming, _none of this is real, stop making me believe that you might actually have feelings for me_. Because he’s thought about it – this palpable thing between him and Miller that appears in open spaces where it’s just the two of them, these strange moments that happen when Miller is listening intently to Monty talking or making dinner for just the two of them.

But he stops thinking about it abruptly because it’s never going to work. It’s him, Monty Green, who’s never been able to be in a steady relationship and he’ll never be able to give Miller what he wants. He’ll screw it up so he allows himself this, just revels in Miller’s warmth, how he smells like freshly-cut grass.

The smell of the muffins, coupled with the laughter from stories and how solid Miller is next to him, is getting to his head. He almost topples over when he stands up.

“Whoa there,” Miller says, catching him before he makes an ass of himself. “I think it’s time for bed.”

“Yeah, sure, your room is upstairs, third on the left,” Octavia says with a smirk. Okay, he’s scared.

“You got extra blankets? Monty has a tendency of hogging the sheets,” Miller says.

“ _Hey_ ,” Monty says defensively over Octavia saying that the blankets are in the cupboard in the downstairs guest room. Yeah, sure, he hogs the blankets and Miller has walked in on him waking up with all the sheets covering him like he’s a mummy several times but it’s not like they’re going to be sleeping in the same bed.

“I’ll get ‘em,” Miller says, leaving him with his friends who are all wearing immensely smug faces.

“What?” Monty asks.

“I think I speak for all of us when I say,” Clarke stands up over all of them, “we love him.”

“Oh, _Jesus_.” Monty audibly groans and hangs his head. “You do know you’re all not actually my parents, right? I don’t need your approval.”

“But your life is enriched by it, don’t disagree,” Jasper says.

“I mean, c’mon, he’s hella good-looking and nice and respectful and he’s clearly in love with you like an idiot,” Raven says. “Besides, we were all doing a pool on when you guys would finally get together.”

“You _bet_ on us?”

Lincoln shrugs. “I, for one, am surprised it took this long. Jasper and Clarke thought you’d be too scared to confess but, either way, I’m very happy about this progression.” He hates Lincoln sometimes –too perfect, too much dry wit wrapped up in a well-sculpted British man.

“Hear, hear!” Octavia says happily, clapping her hands.

“You haven’t been in a relationship in a while, Monty,” Wells says in his slow, calming voice. “I think he’s gonna be really good for you.”

“Monty,” Miller’s voice breaks their circle. “Bed?”

Monty nods and follows him up to their room, realizing, once again, Octavia is a little shit. There are rose petals on the ground and vanilla scented candles and condoms by the bedside table like _are you serious Octavia Blake_.

“Uhh,” Miller says awkwardly.

“So my friends are weird,” Monty says, resigned. He blows out the candles and flings the condoms out the window.

“They care about you. It’s nice.” Then, softer, “Never had that.”

Monty wants to say, _now you do, now you have a bunch of weirdos to care about you, me especially_. He wants Miller to know that he’s part of Monty’s universe now, that, sometimes, he is Monty’s entire universe but that’s bordering on this thing Monty won’t let himself think about.

“Take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor,” Monty says.

“No, you won’t sleep a wink if you do, you know that. I’ll take the floor.”

“Um, what about we share?”

“You sure?”

Monty smiles. “What are fake boyfriends for?”

They position themselves on the bed, Miller on the right and Monty on the left. For the first time tonight, it’s just the two of them again and it’s so surprisingly comfortable. They don’t have to pretend for anyone here, no one to impress or show up. It’s Miller and Monty, like it’s been for the past two years.

The night’s cold, the wind slowly blowing into the room like a gentle hum, but Miller makes it warm. Monty falls asleep to the rhythm of Miller’s breathing, thinking about how he could end every night like this.

 

Monty has been through some crazy times with the people in this house. Petty theft, joy rides, wild college parties, small acts of revolt against the government, and that one incident with the frat house that might’ve been an orgy which everyone has collectively decided to never mention, ever again. But it should be said that the best times they’ve had aren’t riddled with alcohol-laden breaths and rough groping on the dance floor –it’s the times where they all circle around each other without agenda.

Movie nights, pride parades, graduations, celebrations; Monty’s life for the past few years have been so entwined with these people that he can’t ever see the end of them.

So, this weekend, all of them piled on top of each other, away from everyone else, is one of the best times he’s had for a while. And the fact that Miller is with him, already sharing inside jokes with Bellamy and cooking with Wells, makes it all the more wonderful.

All through the weekend, Miller is the perfect fake boyfriend. Going on coffee runs with Lincoln and bringing back hot chocolate for Monty because he knows Monty with caffeine in the morning is a scary Monty, making sure the blankets are bunched around him in a perfect mushed position, singing obnoxiously so Monty won’t feel awkward about singing, too. He doesn’t question it one bit when Monty says quietly, _I like cuddles_ , just touches Monty more, wrapping him up with strong arms.

Miller is rough around the edges, a gruff voice and a tough demeanour that takes some time to soften. He’s no, by any measure, perfect but, god, he is, he is.

The night before they’re all due to go back home, Octavia and Bellamy have orchestrated a last hurrah by laying down blankets on the grass to watch the stars. They bring out the lanterns and a guitar for Clarke to play.

“I like this weekend,” Miller whispers as Clarke starts playing a folky tune. He’s behind Monty, draped across Monty’s back. “I’m glad you brought me.”

“Me, too.”

“Ugh, I forgot the beer,” Bellamy says. “Monty, help me?”

“Yeah, sure,” Monty says and follows Bellamy back into the house. As they sort out the cases of beer, Bellamy fixes him with a serious stare.

“Monty,” he says gravely.

“Oppa,” Monty says in a mock-serious tone. A few years ago, Monty started calling Bellamy oppa when he found out Bellamy was half-Filipino, like it was some sacred Asian Thing.

“You should really tell Miller how you feel about him.”

“What’re you talking about? He and I are already together, romantic stylez, c’mon, man-” Monty slumps. “How’d you know?”

Bellamy laughs. “You are ridiculously obtuse. Miller was actually selling it pretty well but, man, are you an awkward mess.”

“I always figured you’d find out. You and Clarke are kind of like the mom and dad of this group.”

“Okay, but, in that scenario, who’s the mom?”

“You.”

“I should be more surprised than I actually am,” Bellamy says. “Monty, he likes you. An idiot can see that and I’m incredibly intelligent. All I know is that you’ve always been the scared kid who would never have done any of the shit you’ve done if there wasn’t anyone to push you. And, as much as I believe that you’re the only person who can make yourself better, I still think Miller can give you that push. You won’t always have us by your side but you could have Miller.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them for a while, until Monty says, “Look at you, Bellamy Blake, giving relationship advice. I remember when you weren’t a relationship guy and now, you’re in a relationship with three other people. It really is go big or go home with you.”

Bellamy looks out of the window, to the courtyard where everyone is, and has this fondness about him as he sees Clarke kiss Raven playfully and Wells between them. Monty knows the loose trajectory for the four of them because Wells has always been the ‘plan the future’ kind. Clarke will marry Wells, like they’ve always planned, Bellamy will marry Raven and they’ll live in a big house together. Bellamy getting his teaching degree, Clarke her medical one, Wells going on to law school, Raven staying at home to work on her engines. It’s a good life they’re planning for.

It’s the kind of life Monty dreams of, this kind of entwinement and companionship. The four of them love each other so deeply that they’re not even going to dream of a future without all of them.

“I always thought of myself as someone who’d never settle down with one person. Luckily, I found three other fools who thought the same,” Bellamy says wistfully. “Happy endings are a bit overrated, I agree, but I think every one of us has a chance for a happy middle.”

“You’re a softie at heart, Blake.”

“Shut up,” Bellamy shoves him. “Tell him, Monty. Let yourself be happy. Be selfish, for once.”

They go outside again, into the night, back to the arms of their loves. Monty holds Miller’s hand and squeezes tight. Miller eyes him, quizzical, and Monty brings his hand up to Miller’s cheek, fingers against the rough stubble there. He’s shaking but he leans forward and kisses Miller, chaste on the mouth.

It’s not electrifying or overtly amazing but it does feel all kinds of right. His entire body thrums with the feeling of it all, from Miller’s chapped lips to his hand touching Monty’s side, as if saying, _here, here, I think I could stay here forever_.

They pull apart, breaths shallow, to the sounds of Octavia and Clarke saying, “Aww,” and Jasper throwing popcorn at them. In the crowd, Monty can see Bellamy’s approving nod.

Of course, the rest of them don’t know that that was their first kiss so they say, pretend it’s all normal even when Monty’s heart is beating out of his chest, so they stay and watch the stars. Monty doesn’t spend as much time looking at the stars as he does looking at Miller instead.

They do leave early, though, make some stupid excuse and then proceed to make-out against the door of their room. Monty’s never understood the appeal of kissing someone like this, like you could spend days doing it but, by god, he gets it now. He wants to kiss Miller until his lips are red from it.

“I’ve liked you ever since you asked me to move in with you,” Miller is saying but that’s so unimaginable. This beautiful boy, with the bright smile that no one seems to see and the fit body that people no doubt could swoon over, has no right loving him like this.

Miller leads him to the bed, kissing him still. Monty is dizzy with it until he doesn’t register the movement until Miller is on top of him, grinding against him and-

“Miller, stop,” he says. Oh god, oh god, is this all he’s allowed? Just a few minutes before it all falls apart?

Miller stops abruptly. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Monty sits up. “Oh, Jesus, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I can’t –I can’t have sex.”

“What? Why? Is it…your junk? Is your dick broken or something?”

“First of all, that’s hilarious and, second of all, no. I just…I’m ace, I mean, I’m not ace as in the bomb or Ace Ventura or, okay, I’m nervous talking. I’m asexual.” Monty breathes, in, out.

“Jesus Christ,” Miller says with an out of character smile. “Monty, I thought you were _dying_.”

“Wait, so, you still…?”

Miller kisses his cheek. “Yeah, I still. Sex isn’t the end-all solution for everything. It’s not direly essential to any relationship unless you want kids which, you know, we can’t have. I’ve had relationships solely based on sex and I’d much rather have a relationship based on something more.”

“And you think I’m your something more?”

“I do.”

Monty comes closer to him, kissing unhurried. They’ve got all the time in the world.

 

The entire hall smells like lavender and vanilla ice-cream. Lincoln gives Octavia way too much power. But Monty has to give them some credit: the wedding was gorgeous. Small and intimate, in an old hall with an adjoining field with tents pitched up for an outdoor reception. It fits them, minimal and lovely.

“Dance?” Miller asks him at the reception, because a melodic, romantic tune is playing. They’re only going to embarrass themselves if it was an actual dance song.

“Dance,” Monty agrees, taking his hand.

They make their way to the dance floor, where Bellamy and Clarke are already swaying to the soft music. Miller wraps his arm around his waist and holds his hand.

For all the time Monty’s been stressing about this new relationship, nothing much has changed. They still have dinner together, still fight on what to watch together, bicker over tea like a bunch of old people. Though the kissing makes it better. Gross kisses in the morning before either of them have brushed their teeth, goodbye kisses before they go to work, casual kisses scattered throughout the day like little pockets of happiness Monty keeps close to his heart, goodnight kisses.

There’s still that small, indignant voice at the back of his head that warns all of this is going to crash and burn in front of him, turning both of them into ashes, because Monty will never be able to give Miller something beyond heated kisses. Most times, he shushes that voice down himself, saying he is worth more than what he does with his body parts but other times, quite possibly the best times, it’ll be Miller.

Miller, who tells him sex doesn’t equal love and vice versa, and reassures Monty he’ll stay. He proves this by buying a queen-size bed for the both of them, introducing Monty to his dad, holding his hand through Bellamy and Raven’s wedding, Clarke and Wells’, the birth of Octavia and Lincoln’s first child.

 _I’m sticking around_ , Miller keeps saying.

Monty lets him.

 


End file.
